


Matter of Opinion

by CodenameArtemis



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drama & Romance, F/M, Gen, Head Injury, Hospitals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:55:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28701786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CodenameArtemis/pseuds/CodenameArtemis
Summary: Lisbon's the one with the head wound but Jane's the one who might lose his mind.
Relationships: Patrick Jane & Teresa Lisbon, Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon
Comments: 8
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place mid-season 7 before "Whites of His Eyes". Basically just an excuse to have hurt Lisbon and worried Jane. 
> 
> I own nothing.
> 
> First time writing for the Mentalist fandom.
> 
> Please read and enjoy!
> 
> p.s. Please excuse any wrong medical and law enforcement procedures.

Jane quietly observed the stiffness in Lisbon’s shoulders, the furrow between her eyebrows, the pinch of her mouth and instantly knew that she was upset, even from halfway across the room. If she gripped the pen in her hand any tighter, she was likely to snap it in half. The report was sure to have angry ink splotches by the amount of pressure she was using, but it seemed everyone in her general vicinity knew to give her a wide birth.

She was mad at him – that he was sure of. They’d had strong words a few hours before. A fact Jane wasn’t proud of exactly, but after the harrowing day he’d had, Lisbon’s cavalier attitude about the whole incident had snapped something inside him. 

_She could have died._ There wasn’t anything offhand about that to him and when he made a fuss, Lisbon had bristled defensively and told him to leave it alone. 

Obviously, he’d been unable to leave it alone which led to him picking apart her reasoning for being seemingly nonchalant about her near death. His defense mechanism had subsequently clashed with hers and so their conversation had gone progressively downhill. Their egg breakfast was forgotten, her coffee and his tea were left cold and untouched. Something that was no doubt adding to both of their sour attitudes.

Her insistence on coming into the office had seemed a little spiteful after their argument, but Jane had decided not to push further. Especially, after she threatened to call a cab if he didn’t drive her – her own vehicle still sitting in the FBI parking garage. It seemed his Lisbon was playing hardball.

He’d been on the verge of semi blackmailing her into resting, but he knew that’d be the fastest way of getting punched in the nose, or based off her rising ire, kicked out of her presence entirely. A consequence he currently wasn’t keen on risking, not now. If he were forced away from her, he didn’t trust himself not to do something foolish. Even if she was ready to spit fire at him, he’d take it as long as it meant staying with her.

The bandage on her temple wasn’t helping her argument that she was fine and wasn’t doing much for Jane’s state of mind. Considering the fact that Lisbon had pretty much been shot in the head just over two days ago, it was a miracle the hospital cleared her so soon. She was lucky that Jane hadn’t put her in bubble wrap and stuffed her in a closet for safe keeping too. 

Somehow the only real damage that had been done was a nasty gash on her temple and a knot where her head had connected with the stair when she fell. He should have guessed that she’d want to go into the office, give her statement and help close out the case as soon as possible. It didn’t seem to matter to her that he was on the verge of a conniption over the unnecessary stress she was putting on herself so soon. Abbott had told her to take a few days off but when it’d hit the 48 hour mark, she’d deemed that suitable enough time away. _But it most certainly wasn’t._

Jane had tried playing cool as a cucumber but he knew Abbott wasn’t the only one not buying his act. He’d been twitchy and fidgety and only the threat of bodily harm had him relinquishing personal space back to Lisbon and going to perch on his sofa instead. He hadn’t bothered to argue further because the vantage point allowed him to continue observing her from behind. 

__

He’d barely left her side in the past two days so it made sense that Lisbon was feeling a little claustrophobic, hence the boiling point they’d reached earlier in her apartment.

__

_Dammit, Jane. You’re suffocating me. I’m okay. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Please give me some space._ Her voice had been both pleading and annoyed after practically trampling him under foot for the umpteenth time. She didn’t push him away, but the hand on his chest was firm, unyielding. The strain around her eyes had matched his own. The last few days had been hard on them both. He wasn’t the only one struggling with this in his own way. 

____

Jane felt like he’d fallen from a great height and had yet to catch his breath. He was still stumbling around, trying to find his footing again.

____

Lisbon would probably scoff at his assessment, but he was pretty sure he’d developed an arrhythmia over the last few days. He could picture her face perfectly in mind’s eye if he ever uttered such a thing. She’d get that adorable little furrow between her brows and her lips would curve into the pout she saved for when she thought he was being particularly ridiculous. An eye roll was a sure thing. 

____

He continued to orbit her like she was his own personal sun, albeit from a safer distance than before but always managing to keep her in sight. Lisbon, now however, turned her chair and caught his gaze head-on, seconds away from giving him another piece of her mind when something in his expression made her change course. Jane’s oceanic eyes conveyed things that he could probably never find the words for and what she must have seen in them threatened to rip her heart out. He was having a rougher go of it than she had realized.

____

It seemed to have occurred to Lisbon that a _clingy_ Jane wasn’t a good thing. It certainly wasn’t like him. He understood better than most about needing space and independence. Jane was sort of the king of autonomy – mostly when it came to his own. And it wasn’t like he was actually taking away her freedom or her choice but his sudden need to be her shadow was clearly setting her on edge. His intense unwavering attention was making her uncomfortable.

_____ _

His eyes pleaded with her to not send him away and her own irritation waned in the face of such a laid bare, un-Jane-like expression. Lisbon said nothing, merely rotated her chair around, going back to the task in front of her. Jane took silent note that her spine lost its imitation of a steel rod and her shoulders moved with her quiet sigh. His relief and release of breath made lights dance behind his eyelids for a few precious seconds. He resisted the urge to massage his temples.

_____ _

He was beginning to hate his own inability to not let fear overtake him but it was like molten lava in his veins, burning him from the inside out. The irrevocable terror that had gripped him perpetually since he’d first stepped through the stairwell doorway days before wasn’t evaporating any time soon it seemed. 

_____ _

God, Jane had never wanted to relive that horrifying moment ever again but his obsessive mind kept replaying it, not missing a single detail. It was no wonder the parasitic fear was eating him alive.

___ _

…

_____ _

It had been a typical run of the mill murder case – one that had barely held Jane’s interest nor had it required much of his input. He’d wondered why the FBI had been called into handle what seemed like a local feud between two families. He’d taken one look at the crime scene and deduced it pretty much an open and shut case when it became obvious who the guilty party was from the threatening texts and voicemails. It’d taken the warrant longer to come through than it did for Wylie to get a location.

_____ _

Their prime suspects were cousins and roommates only twelve minutes away from the crime scene. It’d been too easy, a fact that both annoyed and unsettled him. When things were simple, even boring, that’s when it assuredly went to hell. 

_____ _

They’d followed protocol to the tee. Even if he’d grumbled and groaned about wearing a vest. Only a particular pinched brow look from Lisbon had him grudgingly submitting. He’d mostly griped to keep up appearances anyway. Even if he and Lisbon’s new relationship status was certainly not a secret, the idea of having some semblance of privacy had satisfied Lisbon’s need to feel in control, and Jane had been more than glad to oblige. Abbott thought Cho, Lisbon, and Vega carried enough firepower to bring their suspects in safely with the help of a few of Austin PD’s finest securing the exits in case things went south. 

_____ _

Jane had poked his head around the bend in the hallway of a third floor apartment building, a good ways behind Cho, Lisbon, and Vega. All three of them were calling out orders for tenants to remain inside their apartments after a few nosy onlookers had stuck their heads out of their front doors. Cho went to knock on their suspect’s door and identify himself only for a wild bullet to splinter through from the other side. Cho’s honed reflexes kept him from taking one in the shoulder. The team had fallen back immediately toward Jane’s position and drawn their guns. The very next second two men with handguns busted out of the door and down the hall, firing over their shoulders as they went. Cho ordered the uniform officers to lock down the building over the radio, quickly informing them that the level of danger just escalated. Their suspects were running, armed and dangerous.

_____ _

The moment the opportunity presented itself, Lisbon and Vega hurtled down the hallway in pursuit.

_____ _

Cho signaled him to stay back behind the wall before following too. Jane knew better than to walk into open gunfire, but his need to make sure Lisbon was safe and in sight overrode everything else. He watched Vega clip the first assailant with a shot to the right side of his chest and Lisbon, further down, chase the second guy toward the far end of the hall, shouting at him to stop.

_____ _

The guy Vega hit slid to the ground with a pained grunt, blood turning his white shirt crimson, and his gun clattered onto the hardwood floor. She kicked the weapon away with a boot and rolled the injured man onto his stomach, putting a knee in his back and forcing his hands behind him with practiced ease. Cho wasted no time sprinting past Vega after a silent look passed between them making sure she had the guy under control before she read him his rights.

_____ _

Jane inched his own way down the hall after Cho, not liking the blind corner Lisbon took a couple seconds before. He blatantly ignored Vega’s order to remain behind while uniform officers closed in on their location to help neutralize the volatile situation. No way in hell was he waiting. Vega barked at another nosy civilian to get back inside their apartment.

_____ _

Jane quickened his pace as several more shots were fired, and Cho raised his voice. He needed to know what was going on, rules be damned. He turned the corner, estimating by sound how far away the danger was, stopping short at the sight of Lisbon following the assailant into the stairwell, Cho right on her heels. Jane sucked in a sharp breath at losing sight of her again, heart in his throat. If anything happened to her…

_____ _

Jane broke into a trot when, finally, the gunfire ceased. He spotted Cho crouched down on the landing leading up to the next floor through the open doorway. Jane froze as he closed in and caught sight of what had Cho’s full attention. He thought at first Lisbon had been subduing their shooter, at least that’s what he told himself when he didn’t immediately see her. The reality, however, had been far worse. 

_____ _

Jane barely spared the gunman and his dead eyes a second glance. Noting with a silent chill up his spine the sliver of righteous anger that the man got what he’d deserved. 

_____ _

“Officer down,” Cho was saying brusquely into the mic on his vest. “I repeat we have an officer down. Southside third floor stairwell. We need immediate medical attention to my location.” Jane’s knees went weak as his brain processed what his eyes were seeing.

_____ _

Lisbon lay unresponsive on the ground. Blood caked the right side of her temple, fresh and wet and rolling down her pale cheek. Cho had fingers at her pulse and another gently assessing the damage to her head, being careful not to move her. 

_____ _

Jane’s vision tunneled and his chest tightened as the implications of what happened hit him full force. His breath came harsh and shallow as he tried to analyze Cho’s facial expression, only a hand on the doorframe kept him upright.

_____ _

“She’s breathing steady. Her pulse is strong,” Cho murmured, touching his ear piece and tilting his head, listening. “Ambulance is 6 minutes out.”

_____ _

That was six minutes too long for Jane. The sight of Lisbon’s blood on the outside of her body was making him more than a little lightheaded. Not to mention queasy. His breathing was loud even to his own ears and he clenched his fists to try and mask the quake in them. It took every biofeedback trick in the book to keep himself in check. That had been a head shot. _She’d been shot in the head and he couldn’t –_

______ _ _

“Jane,” Cho said in a tone that suggested that it wasn’t the first time. “Come over here and apply pressure to the wound.” 

______ _ _

Mechanically, Jane did as instructed and knelt beside Cho. “Steady pressure to stem the blood flow. I can’t tell how deep it is.” He demonstrated with military expertise, pulling away only once Jane’s trembling hands replaced his own. 

______ _ _

_Oh God, there was so much blood_ – “Hey,” Cho said firmly and squeezed his shoulder, sensing the onslaught of panic. “You won’t do her any good if you lose your head right now.” Jane nodded, not trusting his voice or his facial expression to not give something away. 

______ _ _

Jane did as he was told for once in his life, trying not to think about the sticky wetness on his fingers through the cloth, instead he focused on the rise and fall of Lisbon’s chest. Rubbing a calloused thumb over the smeared blood on her jaw, he hated to see it stain her beautiful skin. He counted her breaths and did his best to match his own to hers, hoping the familiar exercise would at least partially soothe him. It did very little. 

______ _ _

Cho stepped back long enough to quickly explain the situation to the two officers that came barreling into the stairwell a moment later. One of them immediately kicked the gun away from the slackened hand of the gunman and checked for a pulse even though the vacant eyes made it plain the guy was dead. The officers got back on their radios, updating dispatch while Cho got on the phone to Abbott. Vega appeared then, having handed off the other wounded assailant to a uniform. Jane remained oblivious to the flurry of activity around him, his eyes never leaving Lisbon’s face. 

______ _ _

The paramedics arrived finally and Jane was unceremoniously pushed out of the way. Only his quick stride and snappy insistence that he was accompanying them to the hospital kept him from getting left behind. Jane had been fully prepared to make a scene if anyone tried to stop him, but a flash of Cho’s badge and stoic authoritative expression did the trick. 

______ _ _

Jane took Lisbon’s cold, limp hand in his own in the ambulance and didn’t let go, unable to keep from brushing his lips along the top of her knuckles.

______ _ _

When they arrived at the hospital, he was forced to remain in the waiting room and not even the tea Abbott brought with him helped in the slightest. Everything he attempted to drink tasted bitter. 

______ _ _

Jane alternated between pacing like a caged animal and sitting stiffly in the plastic chair and staring off into space. Abbott and the team kept vigil, offering silent support, not just for their fallen team member but for Jane and the relationship no one was supposed to know anything about. The crime scene had been left in the capable hands of the Austin PD.

______ _ _

No one bothered pointing out that Jane’s usual glib mask was hanging on by a measly thread along with what seemed to be a tentative grasp on his sanity. 

______ _ _

Abbott was the only one brave enough to try and offer consoling words. “Lisbon will pull through this, Jane.” 

______ _ _

“You don’t know that,” Jane murmured roughly into his hands as they rubbed over his too pale face. He clenched and unclenched his hands and crossed his arms across his chest, only to let them fall to his sides again a moment later. 

______ _ _

He was standing on the edge of a precipice dangerously close to slipping off. He had no idea what he’d do if he lost her. 

______ _ _

Jane knew that he should have pushed harder about leaving the FBI behind. He should have made her understand that he wasn’t strong enough to go through this again. He couldn’t bury anyone else that he loved. Not when the first time practically destroyed him.

______ _ _

There were too many damned maybes and what ifs. His mind was flooded with scenarios – _Lisbon with brain damage, amnesia – what if she never woke up? There’d been so much blood._

_______ _ _ _

His thumb punctured the Styrofoam cup and he hardly noticed when Abbott took it out of his hand and tossed it in the trash bin.

_______ _ _ _

What seemed like an eternity later, a doctor appeared with an update and Jane jumped to his feet, posture riddled with tension and nervous energy. 

_______ _ _ _

“Family of Teresa Lisbon?” the doctor presumed, taking in the small crowd of suits with calm professionalism. His I.D. badge read _Ike Rawlings, Neurologist._ He held a clipboard tucked under his left arm, fingers folded together in front of him.

________ _ _ _ _

Why would a brain doctor need to be consulted? Was that simply protocol or something worse?

________ _ _ _ _

“Yes,” Jane responded at the same time Abbott stepped forward and flashed his badge. 

________ _ _ _ _

“Agent Lisbon is a member of my team. She was shot in the line of duty. What can you tell us, doc?” 

________ _ _ _ _

Jane’s heart clenched and stuttered painfully. _Shot in the line of duty. Shot in the head._ He wasn’t even in the frame of mind to try and analyze the doctor’s facial ticks. He just needed to know that she was alive. 

_________ _ _ _ _ _

The attending doctor wasted no time. “The bullet nicked the right side of her temple but she obtained no skull fracture. We were able to stitch up the gash nicely. A scan didn’t reveal anything of concern and pupil dilation was normal; she was even momentarily lucid while we were dressing the wound. It’s early but I saw nothing of immediate concern. Your agent was very lucky. Good reflexes or a bad shot – either way – an inch to the left and we’d be having a different conversation.”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

Jane couldn’t stop the shudder that ran through his body. Abbott seemed to sense that he’d lost the ability to speak. “Can we see her?” the supervisory agent asked. 

_________ _ _ _ _ _

The doctor nodded. “It’ll be a little while before she wakes entirely, but I don’t see why not. She’s in room 347. We’ll be keeping her over night at the earliest to ensure that no unforeseen complications arise. If you have any questions or concerns, please don’t hesitate to ask.” She wasn’t in the ICU so that was something.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

Abbott offered his hand. “Thanks, doc.” 

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“Of course,” the doctor responded, giving a nod to each of the agents and Jane in turn before he went on his way, white coat billowing in his wake. 

_________ _ _ _ _ _

Abbott glanced sideways at Jane like he was waiting for something. “Jane,” he began, tone gentle, coaxing.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

Even though, the consultant gave no reaction, internally he revolted at the too familiar way that he was being addressed. Like he was some sort of ticking time bomb or wounded animal. He hated whenever someone tried to handle him. Even those who meant well.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

Abbott put a hand on his arm. “Patrick –”

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“Don’t.” Jane reflexively moved his arm away, stepping out of reach. He was hanging on precariously and if anyone touched him right now, he would splinter apart. 

_________ _ _ _ _ _

He glanced around him, taking in the various faces of the team. Cho’s strained shoulders and disquieted expression. Abbott’s furrowed brow and pinched mouth. Vega’s worried frown and too wide youthful gaze. Wiley’s nervous facial tick and fidgety hands. They were all looking at him, waiting.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

Suddenly, it felt like the white walls were closing in on him. He couldn’t breathe. He felt exposed. His chest tightened and his lungs seized up again. Bile rose in his throat as Lisbon’s bloody face flashed in his mind. “Excuse me,” he muttered, bolting toward the nearest men’s room. 

_________ _ _ _ _ _

Jane barely made it to the toilet in time before he emptied the contents of his stomach. He didn’t stop until his throat was raw and only bile was coming up. It was a good ten minutes before he found the strength to get up from the tile floor. With shaking hands he turned the faucet on and put his face underneath to rinse his mouth out as best he could. Then, he splashed water on his face and tried not to study his haggard appearance in the mirror. It would bring back too many painful things that he couldn’t afford to succumb to again.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

Leaning heavily on the sink, he did a few breathing exercises and calming techniques. He tried his best to stave off a full blown anxiety attack, knowing he’d be in here a while longer unless he could get himself back under control. Only when he felt semi-normal did he exit the bathroom. 

_________ _ _ _ _ _

Cho was the only one still there when Jane came out. His gait faltered minutely but the agent caught it still. “Abbott didn’t think Lisbon would want a crowd. He sent everyone back to the office, but he expects a call when she’s awake.” 

_________ _ _ _ _ _

He fought the instinctual desire to make a snide comment about needing a babysitter. Instead, Jane felt himself nod in a subdued manner, sticking his hands into his vest pockets. Cho didn’t deserve his ire; the man cared very much for her too.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“I stuck around for Lisbon and to make sure you don’t do anything stupid,” Cho said like Jane had actually voiced his thoughts aloud.

_________ _ _ _ _ _

Now who was the mind reader? In spite of himself, Jane’s mouth quirked upward slightly. “Abbott worried I’ll make a scene? Make the FBI look bad.” 

_________ _ _ _ _ _

“Only that you might make a nuisance of yourself and get kicked out of here,” Cho responded. “And if that happened then you _would_ make a scene and make the FBI look bad.” 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Jane frowned. Had he really become so predictable? He didn’t have the emotional energy to challenge such a statement presently. All his brain power was focused on _not seeing_ Lisbon’s bloody unconscious face and _not feeling_ the cool, clamminess of her limp hand on a loop in his mind. He rolled forward on the balls of his feet and then back onto his heels. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Ah, mostly damage control then,” Jane assessed with a lightness he didn’t feel.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Cho turned and walked in the direction of room 347, knowing Jane would follow. “Something like that,” the agent threw over his shoulder, matching his tone.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

When the duo arrived at the designated exam room, Jane faltered a few feet from the threshold while Cho wasted no time in pushing on the handle of the door and going inside. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Lisbon lay on her back, an I.V. in her arm. Her still too pale face slackened in slumber instead of mere unconsciousness. The white sheet was tucked and folded neatly at her waist and the heart monitor was beeping steadily. She looked almost peaceful, if not for the bandage on her temple and the wrong way she was laying. She wasn’t a back sleeper at all, instead preferring to be on her side tucked against Jane or on her stomach with her face in the pillow. He was the one who often liked sleeping on his back. Seeing her like this felt wrong. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Jane swallowed hard and bit the inside of his cheek until he was sure that he tasted coppery blood. He watched Cho study Lisbon for a long moment from his place in the doorway. Cho’s shoulders finally relaxed a fraction and he glanced toward Jane, expression unreadable.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I’m going to get a coffee,” Cho stated, brushing past Jane back into the hallway. Seeing as it would be his third cup, Jane knew the real reason for the trip and it didn’t have anything to do with needing the caffeine.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Jane only moved inside the room once he was alone, going to the chair by the far side of the cot and scooting it closer. He perched on the edge of it, body keening toward Lisbon’s almost of its own volition. Wrapping tentative fingers around her petite wrist, he let the thrumming of her pulse calm his own pounding heart. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

There would be no resting, only waiting until she woke up. His mind could think of little else other than when it would see her vivid green eyes once more. Wanting nothing more than to hear her voice, even if it was only to scold him. He wanted to feel her nimble fingers tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck that she secretly adored touching so much. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

For now though, he let the simple feeling of her warm and alive against his skin, and watching the slow rise and fall of her chest be enough.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

_…to be continued?_

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:
> 
> I own nothing. Please excuse any errors. 
> 
> This was supposed to be only 2 chapters - oops. The story got away from me a little. Anyway...
> 
> Thanks for reading, commenting and giving kudos.
> 
> Please enjoy!

Lisbon gritted her teeth against the throbbing at her temple and the persistent feeling of being studiously observed. Briefly, she considered throwing the pen in her hand at the guilty party but grudgingly squelched the childish impulse before it took hold. There was no cause for actual violence. 

She tried not to think about the hurt that would flicker in Jane’s eyes, not at any physical pain she might inflict but at the prospect that she’d feel the need to go to such lengths in order to make him back off a little. It was a rather extreme measure she hadn’t fallen privy to in years – not since their early acquaintance when annoying her for its own sake was his favorite side hobby and chucking objects at his head was a case-by-case occurrence. 

Things were different now. _They_ were different now and that should have made all the difference in the world, and yet sometimes it didn’t. Lisbon still wasn’t the best at talking about how things made her feel. It had become habit and maybe even instinct to let the deep things remain unsaid and only ever implied. She always preferred to march on and push through rather than linger on the things that upset her. Especially on what seemed out of her control.

She’d always been a _rub some dirt on it, you’re fine,_ kind of girl anyway. 

She grew up in a household where no one talked about anything substantial unless it involved sports, cars, or gambling metaphors. All the men in her life certainly never asked about _her_ feelings. She loved her brothers but touchy-feely they were not.

Lisbon had a few memories of her mother kissing her on the back of the head in the middle of the night. She couldn’t have been more than 6 or 7 years old. The smell of jasmine and hospital disinfectant tickling her nose and pulling her to the edge of waking. The feeling of cool, slender hands slipping the comforter up to her shoulders and lingering there. The smell of spearmint gum on every exhale of her mother’s breath.

Her parents had worked too much to be there to kiss and bandage every scrape and bruise or shield her from every sharp tongue that might lash out at her. Lisbon had learned young how to look after herself, and when she was older, her brothers too. The concept of anyone wanting to look after her had become a rare one. 

She remembered one of her father’s friends from the station teaching her how to throw a proper punch before she was even double digits. When she finally managed to land a hit, he’d called her a little spitfire, wincing and rubbing at his chest where her tiny fist had made contact. Lisbon pictured the proud glint in her father’s hazel eyes when she’d demonstrated her new skill to him. It was sickeningly ironic that several years later she’d use it to protect her brothers and herself from him and _his punches._ When Stan wasn’t trying to play the martyr anyway.

She recalled perfectly the weeks and months following her mother’s death. The small low budget funeral. Robert Lisbon’s colossal breakdown. The paid time-off work and his daily descent into alcoholic oblivion. The rumors at school, the sympathetic looks from the teachers. Stan punching a boy out in his grade over a stupid remark. Jimmy acting out in school. Tommy’s weekly night terrors – he woke himself up screaming and shaking most nights. She’d let him climb into bed with her, knowing their father hadn’t stirred from his drunken stupor in the living room lounge chair. With Tommy’s warm, sweaty body tucked tightly against her side, Lisbon had softly hummed the first song that came into her head, Bon Jovi’s Living on a Prayer. If she woke up in the early hours of the morning to find that Jimmy and Stan had migrated in their sleeping bags onto her bedroom floor too, she never mentioned it and neither did they. 

Needless to say, Jane wasn’t any better at communicating his feelings verbally than she was. He’d spent so long keeping things to himself that he often forgot that he actually _could_ tell her what was on his mind now. Even if getting him to open up to her was still like pulling teeth sometimes. He was a master at finagling information out of other people while he himself remained shut tighter than a drum. It had never ceased in irritating her.

Old habits would always die hard but they were working through it.

It had been less than 5 months and while Lisbon knew it’d probably never be a cake walk between the two of them – there was too much emotional baggage for that – she knew it would always be worth it. She and Jane had overcome a lot in the years they’d known each other. This wouldn’t be any different. They’d get through it – together. Even if now, she wasn’t seeing a clear way forward that didn’t involve a lot of hard conversations and differences of opinion. 

They were always going to disagree on some things, but could they ever compromise? Give and take. Push and pull. The sharing of burdens. Open, honest communication. Was she wanting the impossible? Could they learn to really talk to each other?

Lisbon was drawn back to the paperwork at hand when she noticed the death grip she had on the pen and how hard she was pushing it down onto the paper. Her nostrils flared. She wasn’t nearly ready enough to let her aggravation go just yet. It certainly seemed like the safest emotion at present.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled and before she could fully stop the movement, she swung her chair around to face Jane, intending to glare him into submission. His intense expression was stripped of typical nonchalant indifference and professional mask nor was it brimming with boyish mischief. It brought her up short. He said nothing and didn’t look away.

Why did he have to look at her like that? It never failed to jar her straight to the bone. 

Whatever frustration that lingered slid out of reach like running water over smooth stone, leaving her suddenly feeling tired and bereft. Something inside her chest twisted painfully. Lisbon hated being at odds with Jane. Contrary to popular belief, fighting with him wasn’t fun.

How was she supposed to show Jane that what had happened wasn’t a big deal when his look made it obvious he thought it was a big deal? It had been a close call. An occurrence that wasn’t altogether new to either of them. So why did she get the feeling he wasn’t going to just let this go? Why was this time so different?

Since the moment Lisbon came to in the hospital, she’d noticed something off about Jane but hadn’t been in a state of mind to fully confront it yet. 

The incident left Lisbon, herself, a little more rattled than she cared to admit, and she could tell Jane wasn’t faring any better, even if he was making a valiant effort to appear undisturbed.

Considering she’d spent a fair amount of time unconscious – her memory remained quite fuzzy on the details – it had been waking up in a hospital bed to Jane’s solemn but reassuring presence and an odd sense of déjà vu that had shaken her up more than anything else.

Lisbon’s thoughts swirled like a storm, drawn back again and again to the very thing she didn’t want to think about. Clearly, she wasn’t as over this as she liked to make herself believe if her mind wouldn’t let her leave it alone. She recalled waking up in the hospital and everything that had followed.

…

Lisbon woke up laying on her back in a stiff cot, achy and disoriented. It was several long moments before she recognized the foreign all white interior was a hospital room, the beeping was a heart monitor, and the pull in her right arm was from an I.V. line. It took a few more seconds to notice she wasn’t alone. The warm calloused thumb brushing along her wrist was soothing and familiar, so she knew instinctively not to stiffen and pull away. 

Jane was perched on the uncomfortable vinyl chair to her left, upper body leaning forward, his elbows on the mattress and his knees brushing up against the side railing. His fingers were just barely touching the inside of her left wrist’s pulse point. His curls looked decidedly unkempt, and his suit jacket lay draped haphazardly over the chair back. His dress shirt and vest were wrinkled possibly beyond saving without the help of a trip to the dry cleaners; the sleeves of the shirt were folded roughly up to his forearms and the top two buttons were undone. It was vaguely reminiscent of the rumpled look he always sported the first few years of working at the CBI after he’d lounged half the day away on his beloved leather sofa or when he’d gotten carried away with his plotting and scheming for hours on end.

Upon noticing Jane’s appearance, Lisbon unthinkingly mumbled something about him looking like a bird whose feathers had been ruffled. She wasn’t even sure the words came out making sense which meant she must be on some decent pain medication. The disorientation from recent unconsciousness wasn’t helping either. 

His lips quirked upward seemingly of their own accord but his eyes, as complex as an aquamarine beryl gemstone, were darker, dull and fathomless. The hand wrapped around her wrist twitched.

“You were shot, Lisbon. Consider my feathers ruffled,” Jane said softly in response to her jumbled sleep-riddled greeting. 

At his words, she automatically glanced down at her body searching for the wound, her eyebrows knitting together in consternation when she came up empty. 

“You don’t remember.” It was a statement, not a question, one riddled with barely concealed alarm. His breathing deepened and his pulse jumped.

She squinted, trying to recall her last clear memory, knowing this was important. Jane waited, eyes studying her intently. His hand slid from her wrist to her hand and squeezed almost too hard. 

“I was chasing a suspect,” she said finally, slightly unsure.

“Yes,” Jane confirmed around an exhale of breath, his gaze hungrily taking in every minute change in her expression. Relief softened the lines around his eyes and made him look less like someone who was about to fall off a cliff.

Lisbon thought harder, ignoring the throb in her skull. “I followed the guy into the stairwell. Cho was somewhere behind me. I yelled at him to stop. He didn’t. Then – nothing – I don’t remember anything after that. What happened? Is Cho okay?” 

His hand tightened impossibly further around hers. “Cho is fine. You were the only one hurt.”

“What about the suspects? There were two weren’t there?” she checked. 

Jane nodded. “The one that shot you is dead. The other is in the ICU, I think.” His focus had been solely on her, so he knew little else about the case. Nor did he particularly care. 

His gaze flicked up to her temple when she didn’t inquire where she’d been hit. She reached up to gingerly feel until her fingers encountered the bandage and froze. “I was shot in the head?” she wondered, suddenly breathless, residual terror rendering her mouth dry. The heart monitor picked up pace. 

“Nicked, but yes you were.” Jane swallowed hard and licked his lips. “There was no skull fracture or signs of concussion. You have a gash that needed a few stitches. The doctors say you’ll be fine.” His thumb caressed the back of her hand in a manner that was probably designed to soothe them both.

_The doctors say you are completely unharmed apart from a Taser burn._ She heard the words as if he’d just uttered them. The soft trembling timber of his voice like she’d never heard it before. The feeling of his hand in her hair, gentle and caressing. The cool metal of his wedding band on her forearm a contrast to the warmth of his fingers. That moment seemed like a lifetime ago. Goosebumps rose on her arms. Another close call she didn’t want to remember. 

Lisbon frowned and let her hand drop to her side, wincing when it tugged at the I.V. line. “Huh,” she mumbled. “How long have I been out?” 

Jane didn’t look away from her. “A couple of hours. It’s almost dinner time. The hospital wants to keep you until morning for observation.”

She’d hate staying. He wasn’t big on it either, considering how uncomfortable it’d be to try and fit on that tiny cot with her. The idea of sleeping even a foot away from her though left Jane with a bad taste in his mouth. He’d consider handcuffing their wrists together if it were at all practical. Lisbon would be immensely annoyed if he tried. Which admittedly held a certain amount of distracting appeal.

“Ugh, hospital food is literally the worst,” she grumbled after the news sunk in, and Jane found the familiar pinch between her eyebrows comforting. Over the years, he’d always gotten a secret thrill at having that look aimed at him.

His hand that was holding hers loosened a fraction and started playing with her fingers. “I’ll smuggle in some contraband later if you promise not to rat me out,” Jane offered automatically even though leaving her side for even a moment felt unbearable. Maybe he’d get her something light like that Thai soup she loved.

She smirked and pulled at his hand to bring it closer, so it rested on her stomach. “Cross my heart,” she swore and watched as his expression flickered before he could completely recover it back to neutral. A coping mechanism for when something had truly upset him. Maybe that particular turn of phrase had been in poor taste. 

“Jane?” she questioned softly, an odd sinking in her stomach made her clutch his hand tighter. Something was wrong.

“Hm?” He pursed his lips, his eyes sliding over her face and skittering away again.

Lisbon studied his expression, taking in the deep lines etched into his skin, the tightening around his mouth, the redness of his eyes. She should have noticed sooner how this must be affecting him. She’d been unconscious for most of it and it still terrified her. 

“Are you okay?” She unknowingly mimicked his habitual gesture of leaning forward so she could try and meet his gaze. 

Another flash of memory from long ago came unbidden to the forefront of her mind. His words soft and coaxing like he was gentling a startled colt. _I want you to just let me help you get out of that thing. It’s gonna be okay. Alright?_

It was the first moment she’d realized that as much as she managed to steady him over the years, she never expected him to return the favor so readily. Yet right there he’d been, his strong, sure gaze locked on her own. The warm, barely there pressure of his fingers on her trembling wrist, seemed to be less about checking her pulse and more about grounding her nerves. In that moment, she’d never felt less alone. Even with a bomb strapped to her chest, he somehow managed to make her feel safe.

The small smile he gave her now was brittle and forced, and it broke her heart. “I’m fine,” he assured. “Cho went for another coffee run but he should be back soon. Abbott wanted a call when you were awake.” It was a poor deflection especially for him, but Lisbon decided not to press the issue. She wasn’t exactly wild about discussing her brush with death herself. Honestly, she wanted to pretend the whole thing had never happened.

Lisbon shook herself and couldn’t stop the wince from crossing her face and of course, he caught it. “How are you feeling? Should I get a nurse?” Jane asked, body tensing as if to pull away. 

She clutched at his hand with both of hers, suddenly irrationally worried that he’d run away if she loosened her hold in the slightest. “No, it’s okay. Just a mild headache.” He was giving her that look again – the bone jarring one that turned her inside out. 

His free hand reached up to soothe the furrow in her brow before brushing a lock of hair off her forehead, the touch feather light. “You should try and rest. I’ll see about getting you some real food and I’ll have Cho call Abbott with an update. The team will be happy to hear you’re okay.” 

Jane must have seen and understood the direction her thoughts were quickly taking her when it became apparent that he was leaving. He tried to stop the mental train wreck. “I’m coming back, Teresa.” The words were solemnly fierce like he knew the truth of what she really feared. Even the thought of leaving her made his stomach churn unpleasantly.

“You’d better,” she threatened lightly as if the mere suggestion of him not coming back wouldn’t destroy her. 

Jane slowly got to his feet but didn’t immediately release her hand. He leaned over her, pressing his lips against her hair in a tender kiss. “Save the jailbreak attempt for when I get back, okay?” he requested and his breath ghosted across her forehead, tickling the strands of hair. 

She smiled his favorite teasing smile. “No promises. You know hospitals bring out the Houdini in me.” 

“Hm. I’m pretty sure that’s my line.” 

Lisbon shook her head fondly and made a small shooing motion. “Seriously, get out of here, Jane.” She knew when he was stalling. “And don’t take too long.” 

He gave her hand one final squeeze before reluctantly letting go. “Wouldn’t dream of it, my dear.” 

…

Jane returned later as promised with food and entertainment in the hopes of distracting Lisbon from signing herself out early against medical advice. Cho kept her company in his absence, letting her talk to Abbott on speaker phone and giving final details on the case at her request. She argued about the date she’d be allowed back in the office and was able to whittle Abbott down to 48 hours before he pulled rank and told her to focus solely on making a full recovery. Everything else could wait. Neither Lisbon nor Cho called attention to the fact that their boss’s tone was more exasperatedly fond than anywhere close to reprimanding.

Cho merely smirked into the paperback novel he’d brought along and kept his thoughts to himself. No one could do stubborn quite like Lisbon. She made it look like an art form. Cho supposed the innate need to argue and negotiate every little thing came from a combination of growing up with three brothers and working with Patrick Jane for over a decade. It came with the territory.

Cho excused himself when Jane arrived, even though Lisbon insisted there was more than enough food for him too. He seemed to sense the couple’s need for privacy.

They ate on the tiny little rolling table, being careful to keep the conversation light; both seemingly hyper aware of the other’s mood. Lisbon stole pieces of Jane’s pad Thai and he put up very little fight. That small tender grin appeared on his face every instant their chop sticks tangled together and she attempted to out maneuver him. When she wiped her thumb across the corner of his mouth to rid it of excess sauce, he didn’t stop himself from leaning in and savoring the touch. If she happened to let her thumb linger, caressing the skin just so, he didn’t draw attention to it.

She pretended not to notice the way his eyes were always drawn back to the bandage on her temple or how his expression wilted visibly. She glimpsed tendrils of something dark and complex and as layered as she knew a man like Jane could be. Whatever mind monster he was contending with seemed to be wreaking silent havoc, but Lisbon didn’t have the emotional energy to ask him about it. 

They played poker and rummy until a nurse came in with more pain meds and to kick Jane out of the room. However, the woman seemed to sense a storm brewing underneath the charm smile he flashed at her so she allowed him to stay, but only if he promised not to cause trouble. Jane’s smile only widened at that and Lisbon rolled her eyes. Jane and _trouble_ were often synonymous. 

Lisbon excused herself to wash up in the bathroom, trying and failing to hold back her smirk as Jane borderline gleefully told the nurse her own life story back to her like he was reading a particularly interesting book. Just before the door clicked shut, she heard the woman utter in wonder, “how did you know all that? Are you psychic or something?”. 

And his muffled response, flippant and succinct, “Meh, there’s no such thing as psychics. I’m just really good at paying attention.” Some things never changed. She should get that recorded and play it every time that question came up. It’d be easier.

Lisbon returned to find the empty food cartons thrown in the trash bin, the playing cards put away and the nurse long gone. She snagged an animal cracker off the table (their impromptu poker chips) and popped it into her mouth as the table was rolled out of the way.

Ever the gentleman, Jane pulled back the sheet and helped her back onto the cot, putting the I.V. pole back in its place. 

Why the hell did she even need a needle in her arm again? Maybe she could pull it out when no one was looking later… Jane would scold her – the hypocrite. He was no better at being a patient than she was, in fact, probably worse. At least, she never resulted to outright deception and manipulation, which were pretty much his go-to tactics.

She watched him pour her another cup of water, bendy straw and all, and set it on the table within reach. Jane fiddled with the television remote until he found a baseball game, correctly assuming she’d appreciate the familiar routine and background noise. Jane could be tooth achingly sweet when he put his brilliant mind to it. When he wasn’t using all that energy to pester, annoy, and cause general mayhem to unsuspecting people in his vicinity. 

“Get over here. You’re too far away,” Lisbon ordered when it became clear Jane was going to attempt finding a comfortable position in the plastic chair instead of inviting himself onto the bed like she assumed he would. He didn’t usually ask permission.

Jane took a moment to turn the television volume down and switch the overhead lights to dim.

Even through his uncharacteristic hesitancy, she could tell the last thing he wanted to do was be too far away from her. Because she knew him and knew where to look – to her – the need to be close was written in every worry line of his face.

Jane obediently toed off his beloved worn brown shoes and carefully climbed into the narrow space Lisbon had made for him. He arranged the sheet as best he could over them, and Lisbon curled against his side in her usual spot, her head near his chin and her hand resting over his heart. One of his hands joined hers, his larger palm, warm and encompassing over her own. 

“Jane?” she whispered. “Will you try to sleep?” There was a very good chance his insomnia would make an appearance especially considering recent events.

“I’ll try,” he eventually responded in a tone that meant he was humoring her, breath puffing softly across the top of her head.

She wanted to do something to ease the tension she still felt in his body. Almost like he was readying himself for something else terrible to happen. “I could sing to you. It always helped Tommy after a night terror.” She wasn't entirely joking even if she'd said it to help ease the tension.

“That’s really okay,” he grunted, but she could tell by his voice that he wasn't wholely against it. 

Lisbon shifted slightly and moved her hand from his chest to the nape of his neck and tangled her fingers in the curls she found. Nails scratching rhythmically, she hummed softly instead, determined in her way. Her thumb caressed the tender skin by his ear and he shivered.

In spite of himself, Jane’s body relaxed a fraction and instead of continuing to stare resolutely at the ceiling, he felt his eyelids grow heavy. The combination of Lisbon’s fingers in his hair and the vibration of her melodic humming lulled him into a light doze. 

“It’s okay, Patrick. Sleep,” Lisbon whispered and eventually he did drift off.

_…to be continued…_


End file.
